


Change Partners (And Dance With Me)

by kylee



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: (King Hamlet Is Not A Great Husband), Courtly Gossip, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylee/pseuds/kylee
Summary: It was sweet that her husband wouldn’t dance with anyone but her, but Prince Claudius flowed from partner to partner across the floor, leading and following, with flattered, laughing ladies and open-minded gentlemen.
Relationships: Claudius/Gertrude (Hamlet)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Change Partners (And Dance With Me)

“Prince Claudius has gotten charming, hasn’t he?” asked Elise, the queen’s lady’s maid, as she pinned Gertrude’s hair. 

But of course Claudius was always charming. When they were younger, Gertrude heard gossip that the younger prince was sullen and withdrawn, but he was the soul of kindness with her, respectful, attentive. Shy, perhaps, but he grew more sociable as he grew older — too sociable, in King Hamlet’s opinion. He had a few choice words: licentious, indiscriminate … but Gertrude suspected jealousy, and kissed her husband indulgently. He should be kinder to his brother. 

It had been long enough, with Claudius touring the continent. She supposed he _had_ picked up some of the continental manners, new dances to new music. She thought he smiled more. “Oh,” said Gertrude, and touched her cheek — was it warm? Was she flushed? “Yes. I’m very happy for him.”

And she was happy for him, happy to see him smiling, to watch him dance. He wasn’t the same shy, gangly boy; he’d grown long-limbed and elegant, as well as sociable. It was sweet that her husband wouldn’t dance with anyone but her, but Prince Claudius flowed from partner to partner across the floor, leading and following, with flattered, laughing ladies and open-minded gentlemen.

Gertrude never danced with anyone but her husband, either. All the court knew, and she smiled her excuses to foreign dignitaries who asked for her hand. Better that, than to be pulled away with a too-sharp tug at her elbow and forced to smooth over her husband’s jealousies.

King Hamlet only liked the old dances — none of these new, wild, whirling ones — so they sat them out together. She would hang on his arm, humming the melody … _don’t sit under the apple tree with anybody else but me_ … and she would watch.

The night of her second wedding, Elise pinned Gertrude’s hair again, with glittering jewels and white flowers. “You’re glowing,” she teased, and Gertrude saw her face flush red as her hair in the mirror. Who was that woman, beaming and blushing like a maiden? Wasn’t she a wife and a mother and widow already?

“Oh!” she cried. “I’m just … so very happy …” 

She could have wept for happiness. Less than two months ago, all happiness seemed impossible. 

At the reception, Claudius spun her across the floor, and she gave a giddy scream of laughter, rising with the melody. No one could pull her away.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from an Irving Berlin song, which may or may not be on my Gertrude/Claudius playlist. Inspired by a production with a 1930s-40s aesthetic where Gertrude and Claudius adored each other.


End file.
